


Lightning in a Bottle

by PsuedsOverDudes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fantasy Racism, Mutual Pining, Not beta'd; we die like men., Pining, Romance, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsuedsOverDudes/pseuds/PsuedsOverDudes
Summary: After a tense talk on the battlements, Inquisitor Lavellan decides to confront Blackwall in the stables. Meanwhile, Blackwall struggles with his own self hatred and burgeoning feelings towards her.Set after the first cutscene with Blackwall in Skyhold.





	Lightning in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: "Saorise" is pronounced "Share-sha".  
> Also, I'm taking some liberties with elvish in this.

“We need to talk.

It’s neither a request nor a demand; it’s a statement.

Although her tone was neutral, Blackwall could tell she was incensed. The sound of her shifting her feet impatiently behind him, along with her indignant huffs gives her away completely. Blackwall grunts, pausing his griffon carving. He sets down his tools, but doesn’t turn to look at her. He’d been expecting this. The last time they spoke had ended rather...heatedly. Saorise had not taken his attempts at ending their “relationship” well. Instead, she had declared that the conversation was “far from over”, and stormed off in the opposite direction. It had been a week since they’d last spoken to each other aside from brief greetings. Years ago, he would’ve been flattered by her determination. Now, it only frustrated him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for her; In fact, it was the exact opposite. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, and it frankly terrified him. Blackwall was a bad man who didn’t deserve to love anyone, let alone the _fucking Inquisitor_ for Maker’s sake.

  
But Thom Rainier is a selfish man.

So Blackwall turns, finally, to face her. And he feels his resolve wither away even more.

  
Saorise stands before him, defiantly. Arms crossed, she frowns him. Her tired eyes pierce him, and he can’t look away. They’ve always fascinated him: dark, smoky brown mixed with Fade green, (a side effect from the anchor). It’s yet another unnerving yet bewitching part of her. Pulling his gaze away from her intense eye contact, Blackwall takes in her familiar features.  
She appears to have just come back from a hunting trip; there is not an inch on her that isn’t covered in some sort of grime. Her brown skin is speckled with uneven patches of sunburn and freckles. There’s a large gash on her forehead, interrupting the graceful lines of the vallaslin. A few twigs stick out haphazardly from the messy bun atop her head. The hunter’s mail she wears is ragged and mud-stained. Her bow is slung wearily across her shoulders, freshly coated in animal blood.

  
Maker’s balls, he had missed her.

  
“Good trip?” he supplies, not quite meeting her gaze.

  
She smiles tightly at him. “Aye. Got two bears and a pack o’ wolves. The mama bear scratched me good right across my forehead, though.” Saorise sighs again, frustrated, and rubs her hand across her face. She meets his eyes and furrows her brow again. “Look you know why I’m here-”

  
“We’ve been through this, my lady.” Blackwall cuts her off. He tries, and fails, to ignore the sudden blush that sweeps across her cheeks at his nickname. Clearing his throat, he continues, “Our positions won’t allow it.”

  
“Why not?” She demands, exasperated. “I’m in charge, I decide who I want to be with! Who really gives a rat’s arse who I’m sleeping with?”.

  
“The nobles do, Saorise. The people who keep the Inquisition running look to you as an inspiration and an example. If you’re seen...slumming it with the likes of me, they’ll tear you apart in the court like wolves on a halla.”

  
“They already despise me, Blackwall!” She laughs mirthlessly. “I’m a Dalish elf who was supposedly sent by the Maker to save the world. I am everything they fear- some knife-ear drifter with the support of their God. And the best part? I don’t even believe in Him! I don’t believe I was chosen or any o’ that shite.” Saorise throws her hands up, and chuckles at the absurdity of it all. She gazes at him and Blackwall can see the pain behind her eyes. “Trust me when I tell you, there is literally nothing I could do that could make them hate me more.”

  
Blackwall says nothing; he knows how hard it’s been for her. Even in the Inquisition, elves are regarded with suspicion at best. He’s heard the term “knife-ear” thrown around more times than he’d care to admit among the human soldiers. Saorise had personally received some of the vitriol on several occasions; Blackwall still kicks himself over his “you’re not what I expected” comment. It burns him up to see the dirty looks cast her way, to hear muttered slurs as she passes by. He does not even want to imagine what bullshit they’d cook up about her if they were together.  
“I would not wish to make it harder on you, my lady.” he replies, sofly.

  
She snorts, the blush returning in full once again. “Please. If anything, the nobles would welcome a _strong, handsome Grey Warden taming the crazed she-elf_.”

  
Blackwall can’t stop himself from chuckling. “Well, the ‘crazed’ part isn’t too far off.”

  
Saorise gapes at him in mock offense. “Now whatever would make you say such a thing? I am the paragon of sanity, much more than the rest of you lot!”

  
“I’ve witnessed you jump off the side of a mountain because you thought it’d be faster than walking.”

  
“Which it is, and was!” She laughs, poking him in the chest on the last two words. Smirking, she adds, “Besides, I didn’t even get _that_ hurt.”

  
“Oh, bullshit!” Blackwall grins widely. “You couldn’t even walk! Bull and I had to take turns carrying you back to camp.”

  
“Didn’t we get chased by a bear that time, too?”

  
“Two bears.” he corrects. “Dorian pissed off the other because he accidentally shot a lightning bolt at it while trying to hit the _first_ bear. Maker, I don’t think I’ve seen a man run that fast before!” He laughs, shoulders shaking from trying to contain his amusement. Saorise lets out an ugly snort, which in turn causes them both break out into a fit of raucous laughter. Blackwall wipes away a happy tear from his eye. “You’re trouble.” he smiles, shaking his head at her.

  
“But we’ve had good times, yeah?” she asks, a little warily.

  
His heart jolts with a brief flash of panic and longing. “Of course. Wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t like it.” Blackwall reassures her, carefully. He can see where the conversation is headed, and he’s worried. Their last conversation started like this and ended up with a week long rift between them. Blackwall knows he isn’t strong enough to stay away again.

  
Because Thom Rainier is a selfish man.

  
He suddenly realizes just how physically close they are to one another. He can see every freckle that dots her face and the exact place where the green and brown mix together in her irises. He backs away from her, bumping into his carving table. The griffon sculpture sways precariously.

  
She blinks and then backs away from him as well, embarrassed. Saorise rubs her neck and face, trying to cover up the sudden hot flush of shame that spreads across her entire face. “I-I should apologize, I think. I’ve been pushy. And I see that now. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I-I really am.” She gulps and shakes her head. “But, it’s because I’ve, well, never really cared this much about anyone. Especially a _shem_.” Immediately grasping what she just said, she panics and clarifies, “Not that I’m in love with you or anything! I just really like you and all.” She covers her face completely with her hands. “ _Mythal’enaste_ , I’m an idiot. _You_ make me an idiot. I’ve never been this stupid around someone before!”

  
As he watches her, that last bit of resolve evaporates. “Saorise.” He puts his hand on her shoulder, stopping her embarrassed rambling. “That time on the ramparts, I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

  
She looks up at him, scratching the back of her neck. “Aye, well, I came here because of that, actually. Was gonna tell you that I wasn’t going to give up, but I realize I’ve been such an ass about it. I’m sorry.”

  
“You don’t need to apologize.” Blackwall replies firmly. He then pauses, considering his next words very carefully. “I...owe you an explanation. About all of this. But not here. When you have the time, join me in the Storm Coast.”

  
She blinks at him, surprised. “Well, if it’s important to you, we’ll go as soon as possible.” She gives him a half-smile, and then turns to leave. There's more bounce to her step as she's leaving than when she came in.

  
As he watches her go, the weight of the future consequences hits him with full force. This won’t solve anything, in the long run. This will only end in disaster for the both of them. But he can't find it within himself to care. 

  
Blackwall is a selfish man.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far, thanks so much for reading! This is the first work I've posted in years, so I hope it wasn't too bad.  
> I wanted to write something short based on Blackwall's romance; It really resonated with me.  
> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
